The Asylum
by Goodnight Sweet Ladies
Summary: "You" he said to me "Are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain." Impressive last words.


_Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot! The plot was however inspired by Emilie Autumn and her book "The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls"._

Greetings. You are reading the journal entries of Roxas Ben Strife. It is rather unfortunate that you have found this, because if you are reading these words, I can safely say your life is over. Best of luck...

I was finally starting to properly regain consciousness, and some sense of awareness. Perhaps it was my head banging against the window? Perhaps whatever drugs those fucking doctors had given me were wearing off? I don't remember. It was a long time ago. I do remember that I was suddenly aware of what was going on around me, and I instantly longed for more of the blissful ignorance granted by the injections. I gazed out the window of the police car I found myself in. There wasn't much else one could do with their hands bound, now was there? I glanced around, surveying my surroundings. I could see walls. Impossibly high. So high in fact, for but a moment I was convinced they stretched to the heavens and divided the stars themselves. Set within the monstrous walls, was a series of colossal iron gates, screeching open to admit us and wailing shut, disposing of any foolish notions of retreat. The eerie atmosphere of the place pervaded my very being, and try as I might, I couldn't help but wonder, were these barricades designed to keep intruders out? Or to keep the inhabitants in? Looking back now, I suspect I knew the answer even then.

I recall sitting there in the back seat, totally helpless. The waves of terror that washed over me were uncontrollable. Unforgettable. To this very day, I swear, I will never forget it. All I could do as I waited to arrive at our destination was reflect on myself, and wonder if perhaps the doctors were right? Perhaps I do belong here? As I pondered myself I didn't believe that I was anything out of the ordinary. Not so typical name I guess, Roxas, but I had typical blond hair and typical blue eyes. Really just your average seventeen year old. Although, as I thought more about it, I began to consider that maybe the doctor had reason to send me here. However, if my memory serves, I was jolted from my contemplations as the car abruptly stopped, and I was roughly pulled into the cold and the vicious rain. There it was. I stood there, staring at the enormous building, entranced in a revolting mixture of awe, horror and wild anticipation. And there I saw it. What I would soon come to realise to be the only truth in this world. Even in the dark it was clearly visible. Desperately etched into the imposing stone walls of the building, presumably with some form of jagged instrument, in an erratic and primitive scrawl,

"Enter at your ease,  
>For once inside,<br>You may never leave.  
>Welcome to The Asylum."<p>

Apparently it was true, as to this day I have yet to see the outside world. I sit here, alone. Locked away from all but the sick doctors and the withering nurses, writing in this silly little book to escape the silence. As I write I wonder, will anyone ever read these words? Not that it matters. If you've found this book, you're already in. My words can't help you now.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to enlighten you as to why I have been sentenced to this exile. Well, to tell you the truth, I don't remember much of the incident. I do remember fading in and out of blackness. In the brief moments that my eyes opened, I was blinded with lights. There were doctors rushing all around me. I was totally incapable of comprehending what was going on around me.

I am now however, aware of what occurred. Once they had "stabilised" me, they informed me that I had in face attempted to end my life. My efforts were thwarted by my mother however, when she found me and called for help. If only they made bleach stronger, they may not have been able to stop the poison. I recall being subjected to endless psychiatric tests and analysis. I was deemed mentally unfit by the self proclaimed masters of my mind. Cunts. I was institutionalised without a second thought. I had been committed, and at that moment I knew, dead or alive, my life was over.

I remember my first night here in this hell so vividly, that if I hadn't managed to retain enough of my sanity to know better, I'd swear it was yesterday. I remember the overly chirpy receptionist, who addressed me from behind the gargantuan desk, in a lobby so expansive I cannot even attempt to put it into words. The woman's voice was so sickly sweet it spurred a wave of nausea to run through me, and the condescending manner in which she spoke made me contemplate a swift murder before they locked me away. I never bothered to take note of her name, but whoever she was she led me to my new room. She informed me that in order to avoid any late night "incidents" all inmates were assigned a roommate. I assumed so that there was someone there to call for help in case we did anything dangerous. My roommate would be called Axel. "What a stupid fucking name" I recall thinking to myself.

As soon as the receptionist opened the door to my room, I realised the gravity of my roommate situation. There he sat, on the floor, this tall, lanky man with shockingly vibrant red hair. He could have been no more than twenty three. What caught me off guard about this situation was that he was casually setting fire to a pillowcase. I would later discover that it was MY pillowcase. Fucking dipshit. Don't ask me where he got the lighter, but the image of the golden flames dancing in his piercing green eyes will stay with me forever. The sight was both manic and fascinating. As you might expect, within second the room was swarmed with staff, who put out the fire and promptly confiscated the lighter. The fact that I would be living with a pyromaniac did little to settle my anxieties about this place.

As soon as the staff left the room, Axel started up a conversation as if nothing had just happened."So... Whatcha in for?" he queried. "Well, they call me a manic depressive." Came my surprisingly confident response. "And my, might I ask, do they say such things?" "Probably because I tried to kill myself." Axel showed no signs of surprise, but instead, looked rather disappointed. He started talking about how he thought it was a foolish choice, and it would have been wasting my precious life if I'd succeeded. It felt like he went on for eternity, when in reality it was probably only a moment. However, I broke all the same. "What's the big deal?" I snapped "Lots of amazing people have committed suicide, and they turned out alright!" It was only after I had said it that I stopped to think. Only then did my words hit me. There was a brief silence before Axel erupted into fits of laughter. I face-palmed. That is, of course, the action of striking ones face with one's own palm in exasperation, in case you were unaware. Admittedly, I couldn't help a few chuckles myself, and before I knew it, I was laughing. For the first time in so long, I was laughing. I had met my first lunatic that night, and I've got to say, I was intrigued.

Over the following few weeks Axel and I became close. He shared with me the story of how he wound up in this miserable place. Apparently, a number of years ago, an incident occurred causing Axel to lose his faith. He was so distraught that he burned down the local church. During those few weeks, Axel showed me around. He informed me of what inmates were harmless, like Abbie the hoarder, and what ones were dangerous. I found that quite ironic actually, since the pyro himself had attempted to set my blanket on fire for telling him to shut up. That very morning if I remember correctly!

I often sit here, alone in my room, and think back to that friendship. Its positive aspects ripple through my mind like calming waves. Axel was always someone to talk to. An invaluable asset in a place full of mentally ill maniacs and deranged doctors. He also provided important information with regards to the best ways to survive the horrors of this place. Like ways to drown out the screaming at night. Perhaps most importantly, Axel gave me hope, in a place so hopeless I am genuinely shocked I have not yet withered away. Obviously there were the less appealing sides to our relationship also, such as his occasional attempts to burn me. My arms still display a large number of burns, evidence of the times Axel got bored. Worse still was the fact that the man never shut up. Ever. Even in his sleep the oaf babbled constantly! However, looking back, it's quite safe to say that the positives by far outweighed the negatives. Even if I can still see the burns. I couldn't possibly deny it. I feel empty without our friendship.

I remember the day it all fell apart far too clearly for my liking. I hadn't thought that either of us could sink any lower. Now I know how foolish I was. Facing The Asylum alone is a truly harrowing fate. On that particular day, Axel had received some particularly bad news. His mother had died. I don't remember how, but I hardly expect you to care much. As a result of the news, the red head suffered a serious breakdown. He reacted in the way he always did. He lit a fire. However, this time was different. One word was all it took for me to realise that this was far worse than any of the times he was bored or looking to cause some mischief. This time, he was broken. "Run" he said to me, a dangerous glint in his eye. But I couldn't. I stood there in awe and watched the scene before me.

Smoke wafted though the room, caressing the air as it moved, causing a tingle in my eye and a tickle in my skin. The flames danced their graceful dance, fluttering up along the curtains and trickling along the carpeted floors. Seeing Axel there among the flames was both terrifying and unimaginably exciting. For the first time, that maniac looked free.

I don't remember the events that followed in much detail. I know that somehow, I escaped the fire. I know that it caused massive amounts of damage. I know that several doctors perished in the flames. What I don't know, is what those sick fucks injected my loveable pyromaniac with. All I know is that they killed my only friend. Isn't that funny, and sad, too? I came here wanting to die, but he stole my wish. I knew he was a cunt the moment I met him.

And so here I sit. Locked away in this room alone. Lonely and grieving for the last shred of hope that existed in my life. He was the only thing giving me any hope of getting out of this damned place, and now he's gone. He's gone and I know that I have nothing left. I am now certain that I will never escape this place, and I can feel the waves of sorrow lap over my body and ripple through my mind as I sink lower than I ever thought possible into the icy depths of this ocean. As this murky feeling washes over me, I can't help but recall some of Axel's more profound words. "You" he said to me "Are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain." Impressive last words my friend.

Alas, here I am, alone to rot, and if you are reading this, then it appears, you share my fate. I'd pity you, but there's no damned point. If you've found this book, you're already in. There is no hope for you, "For once inside, you may never leave." Welcome to The Asylum my friend.


End file.
